


and they were roommates

by dragonflew



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, gender neutral reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:07:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23922088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonflew/pseuds/dragonflew
Summary: Rent in London is horrendous and you can't afford a flat on your own.
Relationships: Neville Longbottom/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 46





	and they were roommates

Rent being what it was, you had been in search of a roommate. Your friend Neville had let slip that he was looking for a place to live that wasn't his grandmother's house. And so after retaking seventh year, you'd both found a relatively cheap flat in London together, close to Diagon Alley, and settled in as well as you could. You were working part time Muggle jobs while you applied for other jobs, though you had to admit to yourself that you really had no idea what you wanted to do.

Neville had set up a plant shop, reasoning that there were shops for Potions and Care of Magical Creatures, but none for Herbology, so there had to be a market for it.

You were slightly dubious about this, but you had merely suggested that he cater to Muggles as well, just in case. Of course, his reputation as a war hero was probably helping. Quite a lot, actually, you think, as you glance out of the window to see the third group of witches this morning stop by to stare.

You help your friend out around the store too, when you're free, but only with the bits that aren't alive, having killed enough plants to know that your thumb was probably wilted.

"You know you don't have to do this, right?" asks Neville, sliding a cup of tea across the table to where you are frowning over his accounts book.

"Thanks," you say absently, not looking up. "This book is a mess, did you know that?"

He reaches over to pluck the quill out of your hand. "It's _my_ mess, I understand it."

"Oh really? Care to explain why this column adds up wrong?" You push the book across the table to him.

He looks at it for a moment, and groans.

"Thought so," you say, somewhat smugly, as you take it back. "You're good with plants, Nev, but your maths could use some work."

"Why would I bother? You're doing it for me," he says, grinning.

"Keep that up and I won't be," you threaten jokingly, taking back the quill.

He watches you work for a while, your eyebrows furrowed in concentration as you attempt to decipher the wretched columns of numbers.

"I give up," you declare, dropping the quill. "There's a difference between profit and what the customers give you, you know."

"Of course I do," he protests indignantly. "Hermione explained everything."

"Then _why_ is there no costs section?" You may not have studied accounting, but you're fairly sure that you have a basic grasp of finance maths from your stints as a cashier in muggle stores.

Neville takes the book from you wordlessly, flipping through it this way and that. He finally gives up as well, shrugging. "Okay, so maybe I messed up the accounting. It's not that big a deal."

"It is," you explain patiently, "Because you pay half the rent, and if you don't make enough to cover it, we'll be kicked out." Not that he was in any danger of not making rent, but it couldn't help to be careful.

"You know what, I could use some extra help around the shop."

"Are you trying to hire me? You know what happened to that last cactus you asked me to help with."

The cactus in question had shriveled up despite your best efforts to follow Neville's instructions to the letter. Plants just didn't seem to get along with you.

"Not with the plants, the paperwork. You're already doing most of it," he says. "Might as well make it official."

And so, you add 'accountant' to your resume.

Neville dutifully writes down everything he spends and is paid, and you work through the numbers between shifts as waitress in Florence Fortescue's ice cream shop. One perk of the job was the free ice cream the man insisted on giving his employees, which you accept gratefully. Best boss ever.

His shop is doing surprisingly well, you must admit. Wizards and witches come for plant advice, and plants for fresh potions ingredients. There are…a surprising number of herbologists. Muggles come for the flowers, unusually lush and colourful. You even try your hand at bouquets, seeing as the flowers are already dead, though you know Neville winces a little every time he has to trim flowers off a plant, and once or twice, you've caught him telling customers that _'we're all out'_ of a plant he's particularly attached to.

In the end, you both give up on the whole flower thing, and Neville happily devotes his entire being to living plants again.

"See you later!" You wave at Neville, grabbing your bag and rushing out to your shift. "I might be late back, don't wait up."

To your surprise, 6 hours later, he is waiting for you outside.

"I told you not to wait," you tell him, when you finally finish washing the ice cream scoops. "Have you eaten?"

He silently hands you a sandwich, which you accept gratefully. Ice cream isn't exactly filling, and it had been unusually warm today, meaning more customers and more work. You unwrap it as you start the walk home.

"How did you know this was my favourite?"

He smiles, clearly pleased with himself. "I dunno, I think you mentioned it sometime."

It becomes a routine, Neville waiting for you to finish closing up before you walk home together. You are glad of the company, especially when it starts getting dark early.

Mr Fortescue notices him waiting outside one evening.

"S'that Neville Longbottom?"

'Yeah, he's my roommate." You glance up from wiping the tables.

He raises an eyebrow at you.

"What?"

He doesn't say anything, but the next evening, he invites Neville inside, offering ice cream. It's a wonder how this man makes any money, really.

As winter approaches, Neville insists on checking on all his plants to make sure they are safe from the cold, meaning he closes shop late. Meanwhile, the ice cream shop closes early, and now it is your turn to linger around Neville's shop, bringing him hot cocoa for the walk home. He invariably forgets his scarf, either at home or in the shop, and shrugs it off when you scold him.

"You're gonna get sick one day," you tell him, wrapped snugly in your own scarf, and offering him the spare you'd brought along.

"Eh."

And so it becomes another ritual, one of many, always carrying a spare scarf for when he forgets.

Neville's shop is doing well enough that he pays most of the rent now, claiming its your salary. You feel slightly guilty about this and start looking for new jobs. Waitress at an ice cream parlour pays alright, but it's not exactly a job you're particularly passionate about.

Meanwhile, you grow accustomed to each other's vexing habits. You get used to the way he brings plants home and leaves his herbology books everywhere, and get up at odd hours for snacks, usually knocking something over in the process. He grows resigned to the fact that you leave towels draped over chairs, move his books to different places so you can sit and read _your_ books, and forget about your tea for hours.

A routine has been established, and you both fall easily into it as though it is the most natural thing in the world.


End file.
